


Can American Cheese Really Be Called Cheese?

by IDoNotSleep



Series: The City is Contagious [6]
Category: Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (Cartoon 2018), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Gen, Is it unrequited love if you don’t think they’re real?, discussions of cheese
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:49:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28378758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IDoNotSleep/pseuds/IDoNotSleep
Summary: Stef and her turtle friend discuss cheese and real things
Relationships: Michelangelo (TMNT) & Original Female Character(s), Michelangelo (TMNT)/Original Female Character(s)
Series: The City is Contagious [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2063859
Comments: 4
Kudos: 17





	Can American Cheese Really Be Called Cheese?

Steph really enjoyed Phantasmagoria, for both their sandwiches and their coffee. On her bad nights, nights when she really didn’t know left from right, she could wander in and get a sandwich with several slices of cheese and the lovely owner wouldn’t blink an eye. Sometimes, she’d park herself in a corner and write in her latest notebook. Sometimes she’d wander back out and take a stroll with a warm sandwich and a coffee.

These days, however, she preferred to take her drink and whatever suited her stomach to go and find Mikey in the park. That was her current plan, at least.

“A tomato and cheese melt and a cinnamon vanilla latte to go. That’ll be 8.75,” Cal informed her.

Stef slid her card, taking a moment to wonder if she’d get to sleep before the dawn again. It had been so long since then... She yawned a little, then stepped back to let the lovely barista do her work.

“Any plans tonight?” Cal asked her.

“Just meeting up with a friend,” she replied.

“A friend, she says.” She moved away from the espresso pump and to the milk frother. “Is this the same one you’ve been seeing?”

“Yes. He’s very sweet and funny.”

Cal turned to grin at her. “Oh, he’s sweet and funny?”

“Yes.” She smiled unconsciously, thinking back to Mikey giggling at her Midwest lingo. He was still trying to figure out what she meant by ‘oofta’.

“Look at you, all smiles and giggles.” Cal topped her latte off with some foam and, briefly, checked the salamander. “Sandwich is about done. Forgive the cheddar cheese instead of mozzarella, but there was a sale and you said you liked all cheeses.”

“All except American cheese.”

That made the other cafe owner, Z, glance up from whatever she was reading. “Okay, I’ll bite. Why not American cheese?”

“It’s not real cheese,” she insisted. “It’s a bastardization of Colby, cheddar, washed curds, and various granular cheeses instead of simple straight cheese. Sometimes, it’s even modified with other dairy products.”

Z put her book down. “Why on earth do you know so much about cheese?”

“Wisconsinite. Cheese studies are part of our graduation requirements.”

“Wait, seriously?”

Cal tossed her friend a withering look. “No, not really. She’s just joking.” After putting the melt into a little baggie, Cal turned and handed everything off to the one handed girl. “Do you need a carrying case again?”

“Nah, not this time.” It was a careful process, lifting one drink into her elbow and the sandwich in her good hand, but it was a dance she’d done many times before. “Oh, by the way, Cal? About the cheese studies thing?” 

“Yeah?”

She was halfway out the door when she glanced back and teased, “Who says I’m joking?”

“Wait, Kraft singles aren’t real cheese?”

Stef shook her head. “Absolutely not. If you look at the ingredients on a box of Kraft singles, it’s not just cheese.”

Mikey took a second bite of the sandwich. “So it’s made of cheese, but not cheese?”

“Exactly. American cheese is the polyester of cheeses.” She took a sip of her latte and sighed at the heat. “Most Wisconsin born folks turn their noses up at that garbage.”

“What cheese do you eat then?” he asked, swallowing his bite.

“I like mozzarella, brie, cheddar, pepper jacks, parms. Colby is okay, but I much prefer ones with a bit of a bite.”

Mikey shifted, crossing his legs at the knee. “What if the American cheese you were offered was made of cheddar and parm and colby cheese? Would you eat it?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Really?”

“It’s not truly one of those three cheeses. It’s blended, proceeded, and packaged in a way that’s absolutely not cheese like.”

Mikey snorted a laugh. Stef’s indignant rage towards cheese faded away then, only enjoying his smile and his laughter. Faintly, she wondered if she should say more. But she went quiet and simply savored his joy. Mikey eventually stopped his laughter and wiped an imaginary tear from his eye.

“You’re a riot, Stef, really.” He glanced over, eyes gentle on her. “I really like talking to you out here. It’s... relaxing.”

She smiled back. “Thank you, Mikey. I like spending time with you too.” Stef leaned back and sighed, eyes on the light polluted sky. “I wish I could see you more than just now.”

Mikey sat up so suddenly, Stef worried he snapped his spine. But the look of absolute awe on his face made her wonder exactly what he was doing. “You want to see me more?”

“Of course I do,” she breezily replied. “I don’t have any friends in the city here. If my only companion is a gentle turtle man from my exhausted hallucinations, I’d want to see you all the time.” Stef sighed aloud. “It’s really sad, honestly.”

Her turtle friend went quiet for a moment. Stef sipped her latte some more, feeling the weary edges of sleep wanting to come to her. When she put her drink down on the bench, however, a three-fingered hand wrapped around hers.

“I am real, though,” Mikey insisted softly. Stef momentarily opened her mouth to object gently, but he continued, “I know you don’t believe me right now, because you think you’re too tired and are seeing things, but I am real.”

Stef kept her mouth shut, staring into his bright green eyes. How odd, she could look at him and not want to run or look away. Was it because he wasn’t real? Or... or was it something else altogether?

“How... how will you prove it?” she asked, her voice betraying her anxiety.

“I don't know,” he admitted. His hand flexed a little around hers; it was kind of cool, but he was still warmer than the air around them. “But I promise, I’m gonna find out how I can show you I’m real, and... and I will prove I’m a real guy. A real turtle guy.”

Her belly clenched in panic. Mikey’s words... were so sincere. If he really was real, she’d been thinking him a figment of her imagination for the last three weeks. 

“I... Please, if you are...” She squeezed back, anxiety blooming again. “Then... you’ll be one of the only friends I still have.”

Mikey squeezed back. “I promise. I’m real, and I’ll show you how real I am.”

Stef’s walk home was slower than normal as she tried to wrap her mind around these new ideas. Maybe... she wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight, like she thought.

Michelangelo turned the package of Kraft singles over. Yep, she was right. There were a lot of things other than cheese in these. No wonder she got so offended at the idea he ate them fairly frequently.

“More than just cheese,” he hummed.

“Ey, Mikey?” He glanced up, noticing Raph strolling in. “You gonna eat that? I wanted to make a grilled cheese.”

“Didn’t get one from your coffee and cookie girl?”

He snorted. “Nah, some snickerdoodles. Best cookies ever, by the way. Are you eating those?”

Mikey chuckled and slid the box back in the fridge. “Nah, I’m good. I like real cheese.”

**Author's Note:**

> Listen I have strong feelings about American cheese


End file.
